Feb. 5, 2005, Raking Weather

It's 5 a.m. and I'm anxious to complete what my gracious host calls "The Final Raking." What he doesn't know is that raking is meditation for me and there will never be a "final" raking. But, what there is this morning is the smoothing of the large corner, now free of tumble weeds, big rocks, and the collapsed outbuildings that have been my worthy opponents for the last month - longer if the truth be known. But, it's still dark outside, still being January. Yesterday was the prettiest weather spring could ask for with a light blue sky and the ground slightly moist and soft. This is prime raking weather, and once I am to this point, I can see where the poppies will go and the watermelon may thrive. The other important reason for doing this first is that I have a long project in front of me, and I want to enjoy the view, as I go. From the corner on Railroad Ave, just before the dogleg, you can just see a roofline. The line is softened by looking through a stand of Tamarask Trees (which are the scourge or saviour of the Owens Valley, depending on who you talk to), but the lines are mostly true and house holds mostly square. This is what gives me hope that the house can be restored or rennovated, not burnt down as has been suggested by some close to me. I feel akin to this house with questionable rehabilitation. I'm not ready to abandon my dreams, which may be weathered, but are still plumb and have abided. Retreating to the outer fringe of this remote county, I find myself refreshed, sanguine, independent and hopeful. The sky is now gently pinking and I hear the birds awakening, so I will go a raking. Not ready for the "final raking," when the tines are drawn over me, I will smooth the view and draw lines in the soft, sandy soil.

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